


Herculean

by killdoll



Category: Code Geass
Genre: Anal Sex, Be Careful What You Wish For, Fluff and Crack, It doesn't make sense, M/M, Role Reversal, Sex Magic, Strength Kink, are you ready for some lewder tags now, god can you imagine buff lelouch i dont fuckin want to, no muscles though lelouch doesnt get muscles, some sub!zaku undertones, スザク誕生日2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 08:48:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15239742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killdoll/pseuds/killdoll
Summary: Lelouch is granted 24 hours of magical superhuman physical strength and stamina. He and Suzaku put it to good use. Lelouch/Suzaku.





	Herculean

**Author's Note:**

> God, this premise is like a kink meme fic, but I came up with it myself. I have no excuse.
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> This is something I wrote a while ago that I never posted. I figured I'd proofread it and post it since it's Suzaku's birthday and this is a very Suzaku-indulgent fic... I feel like if Lelouch _were_ ever magically given physical superstrength, being dicked down by him in that state would be #1 on Suzaku's list of priorities. He's such a little masochist. 
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> Anyway, this is a very silly oneshot, basically a PWP. 
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> Happy birthday 2018 Suzaku!! You may not be real, but I would move mountains if it meant you could be happy.

One evening, C. C. slinks into the red-tapestried bedchambers of the emperor of Britannia, barefoot, and quiet as a cat, mischief blackening her bones.

She finds the man she's looking for burning the midnight oil at his desk. Since taking the throne, he's switched to an analog method for most of his writing. He’s had orders for it all to be burned, after the Requiem. C. C. thinks, though, that she’ll save a few of his notes to keep with her after he’s gone.

But that’s sad, and sad little sentimentalities are not what she came for. She opens her mouth, but Lelouch anticipates her. “Greetings, witch.” He says, without turning from his work. She climbs onto the luxurious canopy bed near the desk, throw pillows of crushed burgundy velvet sinking underneath her like quicksand. A pause. “I know you're there.”

She grins. “I know you know,” she says. “Why the epithets so early? I haven't said a word yet.”

“Because,” he says, turning around in his chair (he's had an office chair brought into the room, so that he can swivel), “I have a feeling you're here to bring me bad news.” He places his hands in his lap, facing her now. C. C. had expected him smirking, but his expression is stony-solemn. “Call it a premonition.”

“It’s a faulty one, then. It’s nothing bad. You actually might get a chance to have some fun.” A pause. “Maybe.”

“Hn.”

“Really.”

“What is it?”

“There’s been a very high and sudden spike of Geass energy in the middle of a field about a hundred miles northeast of here.”

“So? What does that have to do with me.”

“It’s probably important. I think you should at least go check it out.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with my plans.”

“There are things that matter besides your plans, Lelouch,” she says, eyes glittering with defiance.

That manages to give him pause. He turns around again in his chair, so that his back is to her.

“Why do you want me to inspect it? Do you think that you’re in danger?”

She shakes her head. “No. I’m just thinking.”

 

* * *

He awakes at 6:45 AM, as always, on call, and Lelouch tells him nothing.

Lelouch gets into the entourage of shiny black cars in the western driveway, telling Suzaku nothing. The overcast skies filter the light blue-grey in the early morning chill as Lelouch leans out the limousine window, telling Suzaku that something came up, he has to deal with it personally, no, Suzaku can’t come with him, yes, everything’s fine.

“I’ll be back by evening.” He says. “At the very latest. It shouldn’t even take me that long.” He sees the look on Suzaku’s face, takes note of it, files it away for future reference. “I have—” he gestures with one hand; an armored vehicle infantry phalanxes him from every angle. “I’ll be fine.”

“Can you at least tell me where you’re going? This isn’t protocol.”

“Be careful, Sir Kururugi,” says Lelouch, flashing him a dazzling smile, “you might find yourself in trouble for insubordination.”

“Lelouch,” Suzaku hisses, because Lelouch isn’t being funny, but Lelouch just keeps smiling at him and rolls the tinted window up. Suzaku stands mute as a pillar as the cars pull away, down the imperial driveway and into the invisibility of the distance.

And so, a perfect mid-autumn day with absolutely nothing to do, Suzaku is going thoroughly mad in the west wing of the imperial palace, speed-pacing in a figure eight through the vast, high-vaunted rooms to keep his head straight.

Angry? Yes, of course he’s pissed off. Keeping Suzaku in the loop about what was going on had been kind of the point of their entire reconciliation. They were meant to be partners now, and that had been the word Lelouch had used.

But a larger part of Suzaku than he’d like to admit genuinely pines after Lelouch’s safety. Which was foolish, he told himself, simply on principle; a few short months ago he’d choked, kicked, and literally walked all over him on the sacred grounds of the place where they met. But even if he had no right to worry, he had every reason to: the enlightened boy Emperor, while his eerie eye ensured he was acknowledged, had already introduced some pretty radical reforms to the way the empire operated. Though he had not yet entered the phase of his plan where he temporarily became a war criminal, his leftist leanings had kindled more than a few bonfires of intolerance on the Britannian right. Suzaku hadn’t had to squash any serious assassination attempts just yet, but there was an anger brewing among the people, and he would have rather been by Lelouch’s side if he were to leave the protective outer walls of the palace. It was, after all, protocol. Suzaku can’t be blamed for wanting to observe decorum, for Christ’s sake.

Ugh, he’s thinking like Lelouch, and it’s getting him nowhere. What did Lelouch say once? That he liked it sometimes when Suzaku didn’t think? Suzaku stops, stock-still, in the middle of a luxurious game room that to the extent of his knowledge has never been used, next to a pool table.

Arthur is sitting smack-dab in the middle of it, licking himself. “Come on,” Suzaku murmurs, taking a step toward him. “You know you’re not allowed up there.” He doesn’t even have it in him to make his tone scolding; it’s almost sad, how besotted he is. Arthur stops grooming and stares at him blankly while Suzaku sinks to his knees and slowly, oh, so wonderfully slowly, begins to reach for his paw. “Don’t you feel any remorse?” Suzaku half-whispers.

The sound of a door slamming open and shut saves Suzaku’s fingers from kittyclaw hell; he whips around to face the source. “Lelouch!” The emperor strides in, smiling brilliantly, his robes flaring out behind him. Outside, there is a clap of thunder, and rain, as if on cue, begins to pour from the darkened vault of the sky. Suzaku notices precisely none of the meteorological drama going on outside, rooted to the spot by Lelouch’s return.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“What the hell was that back there?”

Lelouch blinks, but Suzaku knows him better than to buy that he’s genuinely that taken aback by the lack of warm welcome. “You mind telling me what that was all about, this morning?”

“Ah!” says Lelouch, his smile returning, twice as big as before, and even though Lelouch is smiling more right now than he has over the past three weeks, Suzaku isn’t sure how much he likes it. It’s the kind of smile that says Lelouch knows something Suzaku doesn’t. “I have a surprise for you, Suzaku.”

“I don’t like surprises.”

“Yes. But I think we should have tea, first.”

Struck silent by Lelouch’s cryptic replies, Suzaku can’t find it in him to protest as Lelouch gently taps on the intercom and calls for a pot of black tea, along with milk and sugar. They find a low table in a study, where elegantly arched windows offer a picturesque view of one small section of the imperial gardens. Herbs, grown of course not for sustenance but for their appearance and scent, shine wetly over the cobblestones. Having all the excesses of the Empire cut at once proved to require even more excess, so the sparkle is being dulled bit by bit, instead, and it seems the gardens are among the last to go. Even though, from Suzaku’s understanding, Lelouch wasn’t really raised in the imperial palace anyway, Suzaku finds himself wondering if Lelouch can’t suppress a note of nostalgia for these gardens, or gardens like them. He doesn’t blame him, if it’s true. To this day, he’ll never find it in him to mow down a field of sunflowers.

Suzaku is called from his reflections by the arrival of a swallowtail-coated butler, who stony-faced sets down the tea service on the low table. The tea is deeply fragrant; it smells delicious. Suzaku moves to pour his own, but the butler does it for him, adding sugar at his request as well. Lelouch, who this whole time has not been sitting down, but instead exploring the study with a refined kind of nervous energy, makes his way over with a jauntiness Suzaku finds unsettling, and sprightly dismisses the butler, who leaves with a bow, before splashing milk into his own tea. The cups are gold-leaf-plated fine china, light and delicate as bird-bone. Now that he has him, Suzaku means to fix Lelouch with a glare until he explains himself, but Lelouch seems so happy he can’t bring himself to do it, and instead settles for staring out the window once more. At least he can do so obstinately. Lelouch has to tell Suzaku what’s going on eventually; it’s part of the covenant they swore. Suzaku flushes to remember the earnestness with which the two made that promise. Still.

When Suzaku turns around Lelouch is holding the entire table over his head with one hand, grinning.

It’s amazing, really; Suzaku both spits and double-takes, and gets tea all over himself in the process. “How the hell are you doing that,” are his immediate thoughts, which he has little trouble voicing, and Lelouch laughs heartily and balances the table on one finger. It’s surreal.

“It’s a trick, right?” Suzaku presses.

“It’s not a trick.”

“Then—”

“If you’ll let me explain,” Lelouch says, grinning. “Suzaku.” Given that Suzaku is trying to make Lelouch do exactly that, he’s a little irritated, but his mouth closes with a click when Lelouch continues to speak.

“It has to do with Geass.”

“I don’t like that.”

“I know, but if you’ll let me finish,” Lelouch says. He tosses the table effortlessly over to his other hand. Suzaku flinches, goes to catch it, but Lelouch catches it perfectly, and without spilling a drop.

“I’ll spare you the details. You probably wouldn’t believe them. But I met a manifestation of the universe who was very eager to grant me a temporary wish,” Lelouch continues.

“And you wished to not be a wimp?”

“No. I—” and here Lelouch stops, because here he doesn’t quite know how to explain himself. Luckily, Suzaku knows Lelouch better than he does.

“What the hell did you wish for?”

“I didn’t think she was going to actually grant me the wish,” Lelouch says, beginning to become very embarrassed. (Having made the same mistake twice.)

“Did you wish for strength? And stamina?”

“I’m not going to tell you what I wished for.”

The daybooks of both the emperor and his most treasured Knight are tellingly, glaringly blank today, a mark of the emptiness of this monarch’s reign.

“The point is,” says Lelouch. “It only lasts twenty-four hours.”

“Convenient time limit.” Suzaku is up and on his feet, walking around Lelouch, looking, examining. “You don’t look any different.” Indeed, he’s still as gangly and scrawny a boy as ever there was. (A blessing, Suzaku thinks; he momentarily is beset by the impossible mental image of Lelouch with actual muscle definition; it’s horrifying.) Maybe, in another world, where people like Lelouch and Suzaku were just an iota safer, just an iota more comfortable with talking amongst and reaching out to and categorizing themselves, there would be a word for Lelouch’s body type. Alas, such words don’t exist here and slip around Suzaku’s tongue.

“Maybe so,” Lelouch says. He then puts his hand on Suzaku’s thigh. Suzaku stops walking. Looks at him. Then Lelouch puts his other hand under Suzaku’s other thigh. Then he lifts him.

Suzaku looks at the point of contact, and back at Lelouch, and he seems to go somewhere far away when he mutters “This is a really good dream,” and Lelouch laughs and kisses him.

Heat. That’s the first thing Suzaku manages to register. Then: pressure. He yelps. Lelouch is barreling into him with legitimate force. He’s a worthy opponent, a wall of pure power against him, and suddenly Suzaku’s every nerve is on fire and alive.

He pushes back, testing at first, then with more vigor when he likes the response he gets. Effortlessly, Lelouch swings all of Suzaku’s weight onto a single arm, all the while kissing him hard, and Suzaku wraps his legs around Lelouch’s waist. They pull back and just breathe together for a moment; noticeably, Suzaku is already panting, and Lelouch smiles at him, knowing, eyes half-lidded and sparkling with cockiness. “Shut up,” Suzaku says halfheartedly, despite the fact that Lelouch is not, in fact, saying anything, but Lelouch gets the message and obliges anyway. He laughs as he surges up for another kiss, this one even more electric than the last.

It’s amazing, kissing Lelouch. Suzaku wishes he’d started doing it sooner. It seems like they never run out of novel territory to explore, and now, the recent addition of actual strength is opening up all kinds of tantalizing new possibilities. Like, when Suzaku pulls away and Lelouch follows him, with passionate fervor. Or how when Lelouch reaches up behind Suzaku’s head and holds him in place to kiss, Suzaku actually feels it happening. Lelouch’s fingers comb through the hair at the nape of Suzaku’s neck, as if searching, then suddenly go tight and pull. Suzaku breaks the kiss to moan brokenly, and Lelouch falls backward onto the bed with Suzaku on top of him, having walked backwards to it without Suzaku even noticing.

Lelouch flips them over in an instant, taking control once again, and Suzaku really should not find it as arousing as he does. But with this new strength, Lelouch is for once actually physically in control of everything that happens, and that’s… a very large part of Suzaku finds that very exciting. It’s not that he doesn’t love Lelouch the way he normally is, or having sex the way they normally do— how couldn’t he, both are perfect. But the impulse to be dominated, controlled, held in place, punished, and talked down to makes up a not insignificant part of the darker side of Suzaku’s psyche. Suzaku doesn’t think Lelouch has it in him to actually degrade him, not anymore, but just this— the way Lelouch pins Suzaku’s wrists over his head with no effort at all and smiles jauntily, saying “I could get used to this”— is enough. Like this is perfectly good.

“Really want you,” he whispers as Lelouch breaks the kiss. He tries to be the one doing the work, tries to focus on Lelouch, but Lelouch starts moving down his jaw and neck, leaving soft little open-mouthed kisses as he does. “—Nng!” Lelouch bites and then sucks a spot of bare skin over Suzaku’s collarbone, buries himself in Suzaku’s scent and licks his neck. Suzaku starts struggling at the hem of his own top. “’louch, please…”

“I knew you’d want to have sex like this,” says Lelouch, looking very smug, as he springs back up, taking Suzaku’s sweatshirt along with him. He flings it away to a distant corner of the room. Inside Suzaku, heat flares; Lelouch is excited, even if he’s hiding it. As Lelouch proceeds to have a very good time with Suzaku’s chest, Suzaku looks down, trying to see if Lelouch is hard, but he can’t see his crotch past his head and chest. He moves his knee, trying to go by feel instead.

“Aa— ah!” Suzaku grins. Bingo. Lelouch is hard as a rock in his cute little black slacks. Suzaku moves his knee, taking delight in how Lelouch’s whole body tightens and cringes with pleasure in response. He leans in until he’s right next to Lelouch’s ear.

“Actually, aren’t you the one who wants to have sex with me like this?” he breathes. Lelouch whines, a deep-voiced sound, low and thick in his throat. “Hold me down, for once, and make me moan? Say your name? Make me scream?”

“I’m trying,” Lelouch gasps out, and Suzaku laughs honestly, which is such a nice sound, Lelouch thinks, he wishes he had the chance to hear it more often; so he kisses Suzaku silent, so that the sound never stops being dear to him. He kisses Suzaku silent, and then kisses Suzaku loud; a deep kiss that has Suzaku’s toes curling with pleasure, has Suzaku writhing and moaning into his mouth. When he pulls back, both he and Suzaku are panting.

“I’m going to fuck you, just like this,” Lelouch says, and Suzaku chokes on a moan. Lelouch only ever swears, only ever talks like this when he’s so worked up he’s not thinking at all. Suzaku needs to move faster. “Take you just like this, with you so nice and hard and begging for me…” Suzaku reaches for Lelouch’s pants, not even thinking about his shirt. Lelouch lets him fumble with the clasp, reaching between them to rub him through his jeans. Suzaku makes a guttural sound. “Does that feel good?”

Suzaku’s hands are shaking. “Lelouch, I can’t— I can’t think when you do that.” Lelouch laughs, a deep, dark sound, rich as chocolate.

“I know,” he says. “Sometimes I like it when you don’t think.” And he latches onto Suzaku’s neck like a lamprey. Undoes Suzaku’s pants and pulls them off. “Go get the lube.” He says, partly to boss but also to give himself a moment to recover, as well as shimmy out of his clothing. Completely naked, Suzaku scurries over to the nightstand, fishing the bottle of what they need from the drawer there. He holds it up over his head like a hard-won trophy. Lelouch snorts, and starts crawling across the bed, but rather than make his liege-lord come to him, Suzaku meets him halfway.

He kisses him, just once more, quickly. They look each other in the eyes. “Should I prepare myself?”

Lelouch shakes his head, all fussy and eager. “I’ll do it,” he says, making Suzaku’s heart throb and his stomach clench. “Get comfortable.”

Suzaku obeys. He hands Lelouch the bottle, and they settle on starting with Suzaku turned around, hands and knees, his face in the avalanche of decorated pillows at the head of the bed. Lelouch wets his fingers, the floral scent of the lubricant hitting him all at once (jasmine; sexy, he thinks drily), and starts with just one finger, not bothering with his prostate just yet, just letting him get used to it. Suzaku sighs shakily, focuses on the feeling.

“More,” he pleads from the pillows, holding his hips up.

Lelouch is lucky that Suzaku doesn’t hear him swallow at that readiness, especially given how audible it is in the room so quiet save for Suzaku’s panting and Lelouch’s slightly heavy breathing. Lelouch gains speed, and Suzaku’s starting to make little sounds, soft wordless whimpers of pleasure falling readily from his lips, though they’re muffled by bed.

Lelouch isn’t having any of that.

“Let me hear you, Suzaku,” he says. Suzaku freezes instead, clenching his lips tight to prevent himself from making any more sound. Lelouch laughs breathily, bending over at the waist to whisper into Suzaku’s ear, putting emphasis on each syllable. “Su-za-ku.” Suzaku whines once, a long, high-pitched sound much like the sliding of a French horn, but otherwise remains stubbornly silent. Obstinately silent, really. Now that won’t do. Lelouch takes Suzaku’s chin in his hand, forcing his head up above the pillows.

“Want to play a game, Suzaku?” Lelouch asks.

All of the blood in Suzaku is concentrated in the lower half of his body. When he opens his mouth, it’s on a gasp. He struggles to remember speech, Lelouch sees him flounder for the words, gets hungrier. “What kind of— game.”

Inner Lelouch groans, long and longing and lusty, a sound of pure want, at how rough Suzaku's voice is, then. Outer Lelouch thinks he stays remarkably composed as he says, "If you keep quiet when you want to be loud, I’ll punish you later."

It’s not quite a threat he intends to make good on. He’s not even sure what he’d do to punish him, really. But a full-body shiver— one of pleasure— grips Suzaku, starting at the top of his head and moving down, through his shoulders, the flat trunk of his chest, spreading its wings into his arms, through his hips, his already burning-hard cock, down through his thighs and knees and shins, and finally leaves him through his toes. “That sounds… like a nice game, Emperor,” he manages at length. He swallows. He sounds weak with pleasure, pliant. “I think that I would like that, very much.”

“Good boy,” Lelouch whispers. Pulling back, he leaves a kiss below Suzaku’s ear, for safekeeping, wondering to himself if he needs to work something out for if Suzaku does try to be quiet.

He doesn’t, though. This time, with two fingers, Lelouch’s whole arm moves as he pushes and pulls. Suzaku cries out. His breath hitches in his throat, his back arches. Each thrust is hard and deep and powerful, and each one has Suzaku remembering less and less of how to think. He spreads his legs further, voice breaking on sobs, longing for nothing more than for not his emperor, but his boyfriend, to dominate him, fully and completely.

It has never really been Lelouch’s foray to talk dirty. Truly filthy talk he considers crude (that’s what he says, anyway, but Suzaku is kind of convinced that it, more importantly, flusters him), and for the more eloquent variety Lelouch rarely has the presence of mind. But something about this— the moment, the situation, the fact that they are already realizing what Lelouch knows is one of Suzaku’s long-held fantasies, the fact that Lelouch is in control— lets the left side of his brain operate on autopilot even while his head spins in a terrifically beautiful nosedive of arousal, and before he knows it, he’s saying aloud, “You feel incredible, Suzaku.”

Suzaku moans, long and low and speechless, like wood burning, and Lelouch keeps going, like he’s forgotten how to put the brakes on, “So shameless, you look like you’re falling apart.” His tone, in contrast to his words, is one not of degradation, but of awe, of praise. He draws himself out, drives himself back in. For the first time, he drags his fingers over Suzaku’s prostate, hard, and Suzaku throws his head back, chokes on a keen. “You shouldn’t be ashamed,” he says thickly. “You’re beautiful.”

“Lelouch, please,” Suzaku begs, unable to take it. Lelouch knows. His cock is hard and full and sticky against his thigh, and he wants nothing more than to give Suzaku what he needs.

Yet when Lelouch pulls his fingers out, Suzaku can’t hold back a disappointed whine. Empty, he starts to say, not wanting to be. But then Lelouch says, “Turn over, I want to see your face.” Suzaku hears the order and complies immediately, moaning out yes when Lelouch’s hand comes back into him, stretching him open with three fingers this time. Something about the situation makes Lelouch want to deny his own pleasure to see Suzaku fall apart, and Lelouch knows he can take it, and Suzaku hisses from the stretch and feels so good and throws his hips up and bucks and whines and Lelouch is running over his prostate with every pass, and time turns blurry and falls over and shifts sideways and suddenly a sharp press of pleasure between Suzaku’s thighs tell him that all of a sudden he’s coming now, right now, and he tries to tell Lelouch but he’s forgotten how to make his mouth form words between panting and wordless cries and he shoots all over his own stomach and chest in blinding spasms of white and Lelouch’s eyes widening is the last thing he sees before everything fades to black…

Lelouch is gently cleaning him with one of the wet wipes kept inside the drawer of the nightstand when Suzaku returns to consciousness. Tender, yet finicky in his attention to detail. “You okay?” he murmurs, with a kiss at the corner of his mouth. Suzaku can only laugh, stunned. “Better than okay," he promises. He feels Lelouch smile against his skin. 

“Good. You’re still hard,” Lelouch comments, carefully detached, as though Suzaku didn’t already know that. He moves his leg, and earns a sharp intake of breath, almost hissed out. Suzaku’s still hypersensitive. “I can feel it. Against my thigh.”

It’s Suzaku’s turn to smile. “Do you want to fuck me?”

Lelouch catches himself before he can tell the truth. As it is, he simply disentangles himself in silence from Suzaku as much as necessary to lubricate his cock, that poor, neglected thing, pink and straining against his stomach by now, so deprived of release. Suzaku’s eyes are hungry as he looks at it, and before he can really stop himself, he leans down, tucks a stray lock of shaggy hair behind his ear, and swallows Lelouch’s head.

“Suzaku!” Suzaku is distantly aware of Lelouch grabbing onto the sheets for dear life. He doesn’t intend to go all the way with it, it just looked so good; he gives it one last hard suck before slipping off. He sits back up and wipes his lips.

“I just wanted to see if you’d come," he says nonchalantly. “You didn’t.”

“Ah-ha,” Lelouch tells him, and he’s smiling, but it’s more for the sake of baring his teeth. “You didn’t believe me? I told you I asked for stamina.”

“You went up before the God of Geass or whatever and asked them for actual, sexual stamina?” Suzaku asks. “Like, not coming as soon as you stick it in?”

Lelouch coughs. “That was once. You really like bringing that up.”

“Did you?”

“I didn’t specify sexual, no,” Lelouch concedes, getting himself and Suzaku into position, “but I can tell you right now that I feel like I could go for hours.”

That takes Suzaku a second. “You’re exaggerating," he says, as his dick somehow gets harder.

“Let’s find out.”

Lelouch’s cock circling his relaxed hole soon has Suzaku antsy again, and he whines low beneath his breath, wishing Lelouch would just hurry up and get on with it already but lacking the will to ask him to. He can be patient, he tells himself. He can be good. Lelouch is definitely teasing, but he’ll wait. Lelouch watches his face as he bites his lip and is grinning now, watching Suzaku struggling to stand it.

“You want me inside, don’t you?”

Suzaku’s presses back onto Lelouch’s cock, playing dirty. “You want to, don’t you? You were just talking about how hot and tight I was inside. Hold me down. Fuck me hard.”

The sound of Lelouch’s carefully measured self-control snapping is a rough “fuck” hissed through his teeth and a helpless wince. He enters Suzaku, one eye closed in concentration, shivering at the squeeze, channeling all of his self-control to school his body into going slow, even as Suzaku moans out long and low and desirous at the raw burn of Lelouch finally, finally inside him. Suzaku tries to move his hips on his own. “Stop,” Lelouch orders him shakily.

It takes all of Suzaku’s self-control to hold still, but that self-control is rapidly fading. “Fuck me,” he begs. “Fuck me—“

“Don’t want to hurt you,” Lelouch says. Suzaku shakes his head.

“You won’t,” He says. _I want it to hurt,_ he thinks but doesn’t say. He holds his hips up: “Come on, Lelouch, give it to me—”

Lelouch’s hips stutter into Suzaku so deep he’s completely buried inside. Suzaku shouts wordlessly in agonized joy. “Yes— again—”

“You deserve it,” Lelouch says, sweat dripping down his nose, and he rolls his hips for the first time. Suzaku doesn’t really hear him, or comprehend his words; the feeling of Lelouch, insanely powerful, thrusting into him so deliciously hard obliterates everything else in his world, his eyes knocking shut as he throws his head back against the pillows. Lelouch’s next thrust is so hard, the bed rocks into the wall; neither of them notice. Lelouch and Suzaku’s hands find each other, clasp together like the halves of two lockets. “You deserve everything, everything you wish for, you want, Suzaku.”

Whether Suzaku hears him— whether Lelouch is even aware of what he’s just said out loud— is unclear. Suzaku’s already gone, moaning on his dick, mouth open, eyes half-shut, glazed over.

His hips rock up to meet Lelouch’s with equal power.

Suzaku’s babbling, “Lelouch, Lelouch, ‘m gonna come again, ‘m gonna, Lelouch—” and he erupts, untouched, between them. Lelouch’s eyes widen and he stares, slowing down into shallower, rocking movements as he fucks Suzaku through it, the clutch of Suzaku’s hands tightening on his into a vice grip. Suzaku is beautiful, and his face when he comes is beautiful, and Lelouch is so glad that he gets to see it. The desire to protect him, as always, is all-encompassing.

As Suzaku finishes, Lelouch makes to pull out, intending to finish himself off; even Suzaku has to be tired after coming twice, and as hard as he did both times. But Suzaku fights his eyes open, shakes his head, and presses into the small of Lelouch’s back with his heel. “Want you,” he says. Lelouch chokes. “Come inside?”

“Ah,” Lelouch begins. Not moving, he runs his thumb over Suzaku’s wrist absentmindedly, trying to collect what’s left his thoughts. “Are. Are you sure?”

“Mm-hmm,” Suzaku says, nodding. Then a thought occurs to him and, smiling (a little sleepily), he winds one arm around the back of Lelouch’s shoulders, pulling him down to whisper in his ear.

“I wanna feel it dripping out of me in the shower...”

And that, Lelouch thinks, is absolutely disgusting, but apparently his body thinks it is the hottest thing it has heard ever, because suddenly his hips are moving on their own, barely any gentleness left to offer as they rock and rock and right there and just like that and yes, yes, Lelouch first moaning, then helplessly whimpering, his voice climbing higher and higher as the delicious tightness in his abdomen builds.

“So good,” he can’t help but whine. His voice is rich with tears. “So good, you’re so good, Suzaku…”

Suzaku stays right by his ear, urging him on with a steady stream of whispers, in turns filthy and sweet, fingers running down his back, or coming back up to rub his shoulders. Lelouch gets louder, and louder, and louder, until he’s losing control, babbling out pleas and Suzaku’s name in sobs and whines, and as Suzaku strokes the back of his neck, he thinks that he doesn’t think Lelouch has ever lasted this long being inside him before; it must be an entirely new level of sensation for him, one he hasn’t learned how to compartmentalize. Despite the blind frantic pace with which Lelouch is entering him, again, again, again, he sounds pleasured so helplessly it’s almost panicked, and an urge in Suzaku rises to soothe him, to tell him it’s all right. He settles for holding him tight and hoping the emotions come through in his touch, and Lelouch buries his face in the conjunction of Suzaku’s neck and shoulder until he crashes to a stop with a bitten-off scream, shaking so hard Suzaku thinks he just might shake apart.

* * *

“You destroyed my ass.”

Lelouch winces. Suzaku lies on his side in the oversized bed, the sheets pulled up to his waist, so that Lelouch can appreciate the broad muscle his shoulders are stretched with.

"I'm sorry. I thought…"

"No! No, it's good," Suzaku says, throwing Lelouch a thumbs up. His mumbles get progressively sleepier as he continues, "I like when it burns after… it reminds me this is real, that this wasn’t a dream."

Lelouch reaches out and rubs his fingers through Suzaku's hair, momentarily overcome by tenderness for him.

Lelouch smiles. It's a strange, soft, sad little kind of smile, with a lot of secret thoughts hidden in its corners. Lelouch quietly observes the double dips of his shoulders, the soft naked curve of his spine.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Dreamwidth @ [killdoll](https://killdoll.dreamwidth.org/) if you'd like to get in touch!


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